


into battle

by mushydesserts



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen, Gladio gets the daemon smackdown instead, Injury, Partial Fix-It, Role Swap, Survivor Guilt, What-If, protective noctis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-08 23:38:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11092302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mushydesserts/pseuds/mushydesserts
Summary: Nobody comprehends exactly what has happened at first. There's only the scent of blood and the screeching of the daemon, long scratches in the earth, fire and shrapnel and the fading light of the King's Armiger, a noise that cancels everything out for long enough that the prince's piercing wails go unnoticed for a time.It's much later when they manage to understand what the prince is saying, babbling through tears:It was me, it was supposed to be me, he could have run. But he didn't.(AU, oneshot. Kinkmeme fill.)





	into battle

**Author's Note:**

> For [this prompt](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/3451.html?thread=3889275#cmt3889275).

Nobody comprehends exactly what has happened at first. There's only the scent of blood and the screeching of the daemon, long scratches in the earth, fire and shrapnel and the fading light of the King's Armiger, a noise that cancels everything out for long enough that the prince's piercing wails go unnoticed for a time.

When the men rush to the boys' sides, they check the prince first. But he refuses to let go, and through his shrieking and struggling, it takes a moment to determine that the blood isn't his.

"Gladio," he says. "Gladio."

Regis pulls his son away, and Clarus strides forward, and the cluster grows frantic.

It's much later when they manage to understand what the prince is saying, babbling through tears: _It was me, it was supposed to be me, he could have run. But he didn't._

-

Noctis is cried out long before Tenebrae. He makes himself ill on the way. He is put to bed as well when they arrive, pillow wet, out of the way.

The King and his shield stand over the other boy's sickbed in the lamplight, vigil through to the murky dawn.

"Is this what it's come to?" Regis says dully. "Leading our children to the slaughter?"

Clarus flinches. He hisses, "My son made a _choice_. Don't you dare take that away from him." His back is straight, like a soldier's.

Regis nods, quieted. "Of course. I never would."

But Clarus sits at Gladio's bedside for hours, his hand on his son's forehead, and Regis knows he blames himself.

-

When Gladio wakes, he asks, "Is Noct all right?" His voice is barely audible.

"He's fine, son," Clarus says. "He's perfectly fine. You did a good thing. You protected him."

Gladio sinks back, relieved. "Like a shield does?" His voice trembles.

Clarus' hand tightens on the covers. He smiles. "Yes. Like a shield does."

-

The healers say he will walk again with time.

Clarus thanks them, exhausted, and then as soon as he is alone, sinks down on a chair with his head in his hands. Regis lays a hand on his shoulder. They do not speak.

-

The minders begin to find the prince in the gardens. They find him there at odd times: in the morning before tea, or late at night, in his sleep clothes when he should have been in bed. They find him with his face wet and his hair full of grass, breathing hard, mud all over his legs. His slippers have worn cuts into his feet. He develops a cough.

Regis goes out to him one night, when they alert him. "Noctis, I know you're worried. But you must try to sleep," he says gently.

The moon is full and the air is chill. "I do," Noctis says, eyes cast down.

"Then why are you in the gardens?"

"I need to learn to run faster," he says.

-

They return to Insomnia when Gladio is well enough to be moved. Gladio still sleeps much more than he did, tired and in pain; Noctis sleeps next to him, one hand in the older boy's. His other clutches a tiny glass figurine.

"This is Carbuncle," he whispers, eyes flat. "It'll protect him."

It's a child's toy. But Gladio breathes easier when Noctis holds his hand, and Regis pauses when he sees them one night, flicker of blue, of gold, of red from between his son's fingers, Noctis' brow furrowed, doll held close. Regis does not mention this.

-

It is a full year later. Gladio still cannot walk as he did.

After watching her brother struggle with the crutches and fall for the fifth time in an hour in the garden, Iris patters out to him and falls to her knees. She throws her tiny arms around him and cries softly and whispers, "Gladdy, stop, Gladdy, rest, okay? Gladdy, I'll be the shield. You rest."

Gladio fights his way to his feet again.

Noctis watches from the shadows, turns his face away.

-

Ignis trains the prince.

"Feet apart, Noct," the boy says. He holds his wooden daggers at shoulder-height. He is awkward, never raised to be a teacher in the arts of combat; but he is a good tutor, and he tries his best.

Noctis shifts his feet. He runs at the other boy with his wooden sword held high.

Ignis disarms him with three swift moves and steps aside. Noctis hits the mats with a thud, bruisingly hard.

Ignis lowers his daggers. "We can break," Ignis says.

Noctis pulls himself up again, jerky and automatic, unflinching. "No," he says. "Again."

-

They are fourteen, seventeen. Gladio breathes heavily, greatsword resting against the floor. The sound rings against the pillars of the training hall.

"You can do it," Noctis says quietly, standing still at the other end of the room. His sword is in his hand.

Gladio looks up and speaks hesitatingly, shakily. "Noct, if I can't..."

"You can."

"I can't be your Shield." He says it with defeat, as if voicing something he already knows but dreads to admit.

"You are my Shield," Noctis says.

Gladio clenches his hand. "I'm not strong enough. I can't protect you."

"You do," Noctis says, and Gladio looks up. "You are strong."

"I need to be able to keep you safe," Gladio says.

Noctis dismisses his sword. Summons it again with ease.

"You do keep me safe," Noctis says, eyes softer.

-

Gladio does get stronger. So does Noctis. So does Ignis. So does Prompto.

Insomnia falls.

-

Silence. Blood drips from between Noctis's fingers. He grips the tip of the blade in his white-knuckled hand, inches from his own throat, face twisted into a snarl.

"Touch him again," he says, trembling, "And I will tear you apart. You won't live to see the evening."

The others stand around him, pale, unmoving. Fallen suits of armor litter the ground at their feet. At the other end of the blade, a hint of respect flickers in Ravus's eyes.

-

Noctis fights viciously when Gladio is away. The tension leaves his shoulders only when Gladio returns, and he relaxes in the back seat of the car again only when the Shield is at his side.

Noctis gets up early to help Ignis with the cooking. He checks the ingredients carefully, noting what keeps them in good health, making sure they are always well-stocked with curatives.

Noctis spends a long time fishing, but longer still with Prompto dangling their feet together over the side of the dock, with Gladio on their early morning runs, with Ignis chatting over Ebony, faint smile on his face.

"They're your brothers," Cid says, in the quiet of the lighthouse.

Noctis straightens up, shoulders back. "I know," he says.

-

When the Empire comes for Luna and Ignis in Altissia, Noctis is ready.

 

 

(the war came early for me and mine)


End file.
